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Less than half a Terra-standard month. That was all the peace Cadia got.
The deep crimson radiation clouds rolled back in and blanketed the sky. The ceasefire was over. The Chaos tide ca pouring down.
The Great Despoiler's fleet pressed hard against the Imperial Navy's defensive lines. Orbital drop pods fell like rain.
Three prongs. Three simultaneous hamrs.
The western Ellison Plains took the first blow. Cultists and mortal traitor soldiers packed themselves into a flesh wall and charged straight into the Cadian defenders' heavy bolter fire. Cheap expendables. Their only tactical value was bleeding the ammunition reserves dry with their bodies.
East and north, Chaos armored columns tore open breaches. Helbrutes and Titan Legions threw firelight up into the clouds. The Imperials played every card they had. Knights of House Raven crushed daemon engines underfoot. Battle Sisters' hymns cut through the roar of battle. Cadian infantry regints pushed their lasguns past the redline.
But the killing blow was in the south.
Ezekyle Abaddon ca down himself. As long as Lord Castellan Creed drew breath, Cadia's spine would not break. Pull that nail, and the battle was done.
The Warmaster brought the Black Legion's Despoiler veterans and ran the play he knew best.
It was the sa decapitation tactic the Luna Wolves had used in another age. Justaerin Terminators punched through the heart of the enemy formation, severed the command chain with brutal efficiency, and ripped battlefield control away.
The southern defense zone scread for help. A Dark Angels Captain threw Astartes forces into the gaps. The Living Saint Celestine led the Sisters directly into the traitors' advance, giving nothing.
The casualty numbers kept doubling. Imperial reinforcents ran dry. Breaches opened along the line that no one could stitch shut. The Astra Militarum fought and died on Creed's orders, but the line kept shrinking inward. There was no stopping it.
The southern command center fell.
The teleportation device detonated with a thunderclap. Reality tore open. Abaddon's massive fra forced itself through into the command room.
Astra Militarum bodyguards drew bayonets and pulled triggers. It didn't matter. Against the Despoilers' heavy armant, the loyal guardsn were shredded where they stood.
But they bought ti. Enough ti.
Atop the command tower, a Valkyrie gunship's engines scread to life.
Several veterans hauled Creed into the cabin and got him airborne by force.
Kael did not board.
Standard-bearer of the 8th Regint. Aide to the Lord Castellan. His closest friend. He locked the central isolation door behind him and stood in the blood of his comrades.
This mortal faced the Warmaster who had co to end everything.
tal footsteps. Abaddon stopped in front of him. The weapon that had once torn Sanguinius apart and broken the Master of Mankind reached out, the imnse Talon of Horus, and lifted Kael off the ground.
The Great Despoiler was in no hurry to crush his throat.
"Where are those two Ogryns?" Abaddon's voice was coarse and grating, like gravel ground between millstones.
Creed had slipped away. Fine. He would settle for asking about the two Ogryns who had made such a spectacle of themselves on the battlefield.
He would never get what he wanted. Not from a man like this.
The Talon's grip tightened. Kael's lungs compressed. His ribs cracked and shifted, one after another.
He bared his teeth. His mouth was full of blood. His vocal cords were wrecked, but every word ca out clean.
"I don't know where they are. But I know they'll hit you so hard you'll end up just like every other traitor who died at their hands."
"Any last words? Mortal."
Kael spat. The blood and phlegm he'd been holding hit Abaddon square in the face.
He smiled.
He pulled every last drop of defiance from his Cadian blood and bone and roared it out.
"CADIA STANDS!"
The Talon of Horus snapped shut. The blades ca through.
Kael's body fell in two pieces.
Abaddon wiped his faceplate clean and looked up at the sky where the Valkyrie had gone.
The southern collapse spread like dominoes falling.
Battle lines were cut. Daemon waves flooded the gaps. Imperial forces pulled back from every salient, retreating step by step, position by position.
The Valkyrie set down at a remote rally point.
Creed gathered what was left of his forces and moved through concealed passages into the underground tunnel network beneath the Blackstone Spire, where Archmagos Cawl was waiting.
Thick bedrock swallowed the sound of war.
"Lord Castellan Creed requires assistance."
Cawl spoke to the three of them after Creed's communication ca through.
"Abaddon's objective is to decapitate him. My Skitarii forces are limited, and Creed has no surplus troops, only scattered remnants of Cadian infantry regints."
"He cannot hold out for long."
But Creed wouldn't die at Abaddon's hands. Kaelen knew that. The Living Saint would appear in ti. She always did.
This was the opportunity. Exactly what he'd been planning since before they ever set foot on Cadia.
Abaddon would be Horus's proof of allegiance. A weighty one.
So this job, rescuing Lord Castellan Creed, Kaelen wanted Horus to take it.
"My Wolf God."
He looked at Horus and gave a single nod.
"Ti to go et Abaddon."
"Kaelen, is this wise?" Cullen cut in. "If Lord Lupercal is exposed now, we won't just be dealing with other Chaos forces. We'll have the fallen Primarchs coming for us too."
"Abaddon will tell them regardless. And you said it yourself, he can't be killed. Not yet."
"My identity becoming known is inevitable, Cullen."
Horus set the data-slate down.
"The Archmagos's work is nearly finished. We can step away from guard duties for a ti. Going to et Abaddon is no harm."
Anticipation?
Anger?
Grief?
Horus couldn't na what was churning in his chest. Abaddon was a cancer in the Imperium's body. An enemy of humanity. That was true. But it didn't an he had cut away everything he'd ever felt for his First Captain. The truth was simpler and harder than that: he still felt sothing for Ezekyle.
Kaelen could see it. The hesitation. The weight behind the Wolf Shepherd's eyes. It was unavoidable. Even the Emperor of Mankind, when He had fought Horus at the end, had never fully let go of His humanity.
"Do what you need to do, Wolf God." Kaelen held his gaze. "Cullen and I are with you. Don't second-guess yourself. Just face it."
The Wolf Shepherd would no longer wield divinity under the na of Horus. He would walk forward under the na of Lupercal, and asure himself by sothing human.
The silence stretched. Kaelen let it sit for exactly one beat, then pulled a grin that had no business being on anyone's face in a mont like this.
"Just don't hit him too hard. You actually kill Abaddon in one punch, and we're going to have a very awkward conversation about consequences."
The jab punched straight through the Primarch's emotional armor.
Horus blinked. Then a low, rumbling laugh rolled up from sowhere deep in his chest.
It broke the weight that had been sitting on all of them. Even Cullen's shoulders ca down a fraction.
"Then. Let's go."
Horus raised one hand. The heavy bolter dropped into his palm. He clipped the ritual blade back onto his belt with a low scrape of tal, then turned and walked toward the elevator in long, unhurried strides. His back filled the corridor like a moving wall.
"Co with to see Ezekyle."
➤ Next: Father, You're Not Dead?
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